grapefruit theories
by Lovebites and Popcorn
Summary: An epilogue of sorts to a story that has no end. — A Roxas-centric ficlet.
1. beyond here lies nothing

**grapefruit theories.**

_An epilogue of sorts to a story that has no end. — __**A Roxas-centric ficlet.**_

**Author's note:** I really have no idea what this is. I guess it's just an attempt to get back into the writing swing. Or whatever.

* * *

i.

It happened in Spring some years ago on his first day at school. It was possibly the most beautiful day he'd ever remembered – the clouds above had been awash with the purest golden light and a sliver of pale crescent moon could still be distinguishable in the blue sky. Some pretty little flaxen-haired girl that he'd never set eyes on before in his life had yelled out his name from the netball courts that skirted the campus grounds. This was maybe seven or eight years ago, he can't be sure now. But at that time, when he'd heard his name being pronounced with such energy and spirit and maybe something like limitless relief in a voice that he thought couldn't ever sound any sweeter, he realised that life as he knew it was about to change significantly and erupt like fireworks.

He supposed he missed looking into hollow, haunted eyes and sharing little secretive smiles with someone a little too much.

* * *

ii.

He was around thirteen when he remembered being pulled aside by the gaunt woman in the skimpy black dress. He'd been dragged around the corner and into a dark, besmirched alley with vivid graffiti on every vertical surface. The woman had a high-pitched laugh that made his ears hurt, and made him remember the days where he used to hide under his bedcovers as thunderstorms ripped through the night.

"You don't think you could spare me a light, now, could you, kid?"

Roxas, eyes wide with wonder and a little bit of fear, had only blinked back wordlessly.

Her eyes had narrowed at his silence. "Tch. You're not useful at all." Her remark was disdainful. He vaguely remembered she had been restlessly twisting the hem of her short dress into knots with her hands. "You never have been."

She had left immediately after that, right after tucking a five dollar bill into the front pocket of his high school uniform and slipping an unlit cigarette between his slackened lips. He watched her sashay out of the alley and into blinding daylight.

It took him awhile to spit out the cigarette – it wasn't his habit to keep. It took him awhile to realise that he could almost feel some sort of electrifying thrill surge through his veins. He figured that if that had been the lady's way of saying _hello, you're real, you're doing okay, goodbye now,_ then he was perfectly alright with it. He just wished he'd been able to say something to her.

He bought two ice lollies with the money. One for him, one for Naminé.

* * *

iii.

He was maybe a few weeks into fourteen when he slipped and fell and cut his right knee in winter. This was outside the bakery. There was blood everywhere on the stone pavement. The old man walking directly behind him had helped him up. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the old man was living it rough on the streets.

"Didn't your parents ever tell you to tread lightly on icy streets in deep winter?" the man grumbled.

Roxas shrugged, then winced as his knee poured blood. "I don't have parents."

The old man blinked and looked hard at the boy.

"They died a day after I was born," Roxas explained.

"Tch. Pity."

Roxas smiled blandly. "It's not so bad. I've gotten used to not having a mom and dad."

The old man shook his head, then looked down. "You better get that cleaned and wrapped, boy."

"Yeah, probably."

"Learn to stay out of trouble."

"I don't go looking for it."

"Make sure it doesn't find you, then."

"Right. Thanks. Stay cool, man."

The old man made a non-committal noise at the back of his throat and began to walk away. "Always cool," he threw over his shoulder with a casual wave.

* * *

iv.

Fifteen years old. Roxas, decked out in his white-blue uniform, took a detour to high school one overcast day, through the dusty, trash-littered backstreets of September Alley, also known to many as Punk's Curb.

He passed a group of black-clad youths sitting at the skate park across the narrow street. Many sported crazy haircuts and clutched at skateboards or scooted around on bikes. These were the drop-outs. Skinny-jeaned teenage emos and druggies who had nothing better to do but to while away the time by making September Alley their home.

And then, out of the blue, he heard someone call out to him—a youthful "Hey!" from a guy a distance away who was sitting with a group of his friends at the edge of the skate bowl on the far end. He was probably a couple years older than Roxas and had sandy blond hair.

Roxas contemplated ignoring the guy and continuing along his way. But after a moment's hesitation, he stepped in the direction of the skate park and approached the group cautiously.

The one who'd called out to him stood up eagerly as soon as Roxas wandered in as close as he dared. With a crooked grin that was sincere and friendly, but also slightly guarded, the guy walked up to him and cocked his head to one side, regarding Roxas.

Finally, after a moment, he nodded decisively as though Roxas had passed some unspoken test. "You a fan?" he asked the shorter blond, holding out a skateboard he'd been carrying.

Roxas shook his head, feeling too nervous to speak.

The guy's face fell. "Not at all?" he asked incredulously.

"Never touched one in – in my life."

"Oh. Well… know any tricks anyway?"

"… Maybe," Roxas said, then paused for a moment as he eyed the skateboard in the guy's outstretched hand almost gaugingly. "Probably," he finally murmured.

"Gnarly."

Five minutes of simple tricks later and Roxas was rewarded with a small bruise to his arm where he fell once, and a strange smile on his face that he couldn't quite explain.

Upon returning the skateboard to its owner, Roxas found the need to ask a question.

"Sorry. You got a name?"

"It's Demyx."

"Demyx? That how you say it? Weird name," he commented.

Demyx grinned back. "I know."

"I'm, uh, Roxas."

"Possibly the coolest name I've heard in awhile."

"Thanks?"

"Wanna meet my brother? He usually comes around here at this time of the day."

"Um, I'd love to but I've gotta get to school before the first bell."

"You sure? I reckon you'd like my bro. Or rather, he'd like you. He likes the short, serious, quiet ones. You fit the bill."

Roxas was amused. "Is he as open and friendly as you?"

"Only to the people he likes."

"He got a name?"

Demyx shrugged. "He goes by many names. But his favourite's—"

"Zexion. Thank you very much, Dem."

Roxas turned to someone standing directly behind him. He wondered how he could have missed the guy's presence before. This newcomer—Zexion—looked for all the world like your average soft-spoken, undersized modern-day emo, complete with a scene haircut and dark clothes.

Zexion looked curiously over at Roxas. Then back at Demyx. "Where'd this kid come from?"

"Dunno. He wandered onto our street. Called out to him and he came over for a nice little chat. He said he'd love to hang with us for the rest of the day."

"Did not," Roxas muttered.

Demyx beamed. "You so totally did."

Zexion frowned. "Dem, he's wearing a school uniform. He's obviously on his way to Saint Stephen's."

"He plans to ditch school in favour of us."

Roxas looked alarmed now. He'd promised Naminé that he'd meet her at the canteen before first period. "Um, I don't think that's such a good idea. I mean, I don't even know you guys and I don't really fit in at all and I think I should really just leav—"

"HELLO, SEPT ALLEY PUNKS," a loud voice yelled out from somewhere to their right. "Effin' beautiful day, innit?" This was followed by a scraping of skateboard wheels on gravel and all of a sudden, there was an arm slung over Roxas' shoulder. "So who's this new kid? Dude's got the bluest eyes I've ever seen."

A few seconds passed in startled silence.

Roxas looked at the person who'd just invaded his personal space, blinked wordlessly and then sighed at Demyx, his mind all made up. "Okay. Right. You win. Guess I'll stay."

Demyx grinned. "Knew you'd see it my way, Rox."

Zexion gave Roxas a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry, Roxas. Not all of us are as insane as Demyx and Sora here."


	2. it ain't me, babe

**Author's note:** Here's the next one.

* * *

v.

Three weeks following Roxas' initiation into the punk scene at September Alley's skate bowl, the fifteen-year-old decided to introduce his closest schoolmate, Naminé, to his new friends. It was much to his surprise and unexpected relief that the sweet-natured girl with the crystal blue eyes had gotten along really well with the guys at the park, especially Sora. Not that Sora was all that unlovable—the guy was pretty darn friendly to everyone, really—but it was almost as though the immediate bond formed between him and Naminé was similar to that of a bond shared between siblings. Sora seemed to exude an 'older brother' aura when around the quiet girl.

And Demyx got along with Naminé like they'd been old childhood buddies, which, for all Roxas knew of Naminé (which to this day was not a lot) could have very well been true.

But perhaps strangest of all was how Naminé and Zexion treated each other. It seemed like the two of them had some deep-seated respect for one another. It was bizarre and unexplainable. But Roxas supposed that if he'd tried asking them about it, they'd be just as puzzled and perplexed about the whole phenomenon as he was. They were unconsciously doing it. And Roxas guessed that what they had forged between them could not easily be described by mere words alone.

The day Naminé agreed to meet Sora, Demyx and Zexion at the skate park was the day she skipped school for the very first time.

She didn't regret it.

* * *

vi.

"So. You live on Winchester Street, huh?"

Sixteen-year-old Roxas turned to find a stranger standing behind him a few feet away along the path leading up to his lawn. The blond boy stared with startled eyes, though he supposed the stranger's eyes seemed just as startled as his were. Or maybe it was just the light from the orange sunset playing tricks on him. Either way, Roxas, house keys still in his outstretched hand about to unlock his front door, gave the stranger a thin smile.

"Yeah, I live here. What's it to you?" Roxas called back.

The stranger gave an immaculate shrug. "I just… It's just that I live three doors down and I've never once seen you before. Like, _ever_. You're a new face."

"Yeah?" Roxas glanced back at his unopened door, then back at the stranger. He seemed to make up his mind about something and pocketed his keys, then walked over to the stranger with pursed lips. "Well, I've been living here for years. Kinda weird how we haven't seen each other along our own street, huh?"

"You're telling me." There was a hint of a smirk dashed with a pinch of mirth from the stranger's voice.

Roxas mentally assessed the guy standing in front of him. He was a lot taller than Roxas, but somehow Roxas knew he wasn't very much older. He had a rigid posture and a beautiful face, almost like his features were made of porcelain or fine china. His hair was unusually long for a guy. And undoubtedly silver.

Roxas stuck out his hand, expression friendly, if not neutral and neighbourly.

"I'm Roxas."

"Riku."

As they shook hands, Roxas noticed that Riku had a really firm handshake. So much so that Roxas almost had to wince.

Almost.

Following their extremely brief introduction, they talked for a short while about nothing in particular before Riku said something about having to go check on his sick mother back home who was suffering from a terminal illness. That was when Roxas found out that Riku's mother didn't have very long to live. Not that he knew what to say to his newly-acquainted neighbour about it, really.

He supposed Riku figured that too. Which was why he was turning away to leave.

But just as Riku started to walk away, Roxas blurted out something that he'd wanted to ask the very moment he'd laid eyes on the silver-haired boy.

"Hey. Have you – have you ever been down September Alley?"

Riku stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to look Roxas squarely in the eye.

"… Why do you ask?"

It wasn't Roxas' imagination. Riku's voice no longer had its cocky, arrogant edge. It was almost cautious. Wary.

So the blond swallowed once and licked at his bottom lip nervously before answering.

"Well, uh. I've got some, um, some friends there."

In the short silence that followed, a crow had landed somewhere to their right—Roxas could see it in his peripheral vision—and the black creature had started to peck at the grass on the lawn.

"Friends." Riku echoed, and his face had clouded over in the span of a second. "Yeah. September Alley. Heard of the place. I know the kind of people who hang around that area. Drop-outs and useless nobodies, right? You're one of them?"

Something like a flash of annoyance ghosted across Roxas' face and the blond couldn't quite find the ability to bite back a scathing retort. "Yeah. Okay. I get it. I guess jocks like you wouldn't want to have anything to do with—what was it?—drop-outs and useless nobodies, yeah? Guess you're too pigheaded and morally upright to understand."

Roxas knew he'd crossed a line when Riku shot him a frigid glare and started to turn away to leave again.

"Look dude, I wasn't being seri—"

"Forget it, Roxas. I gotta go."

Roxas resisted the urge to yell out an apology and looked on helplessly as Riku strode off down the street, silver hair burning scarlet in the sunset. He felt strangely sick and empty all of a sudden.

"Well, guess I'll just… see you around then," Roxas muttered under his breath and headed back towards his house once more.

* * *

vii.

The cinema was packed.

"Man. How're we gonna get seats like this?" Sora grumbled from beside Roxas. "It's like Tuna Day."

"Tuna Day?"

"Canned tuna. You know."

Roxas was about to respond by saying that no, he _didn't_ know, when Naminé stepped in between him and Sora. "Well, which movie should we catch?" she asked shyly, fingers clutching at her little sling purse.

"I dunno. But looks like every single movie's sold out. 'Cept one." Sora pointed at the display that showed the movie times. And the brunet was right. Every movie was marked 'Sold Out'. Except—

"_Reno_, huh?" Roxas mused.

"Oh. That lame-ass, independent sci-fi-slash-mafia flick?" Demyx waved a hand in the air. "I saw the shots. Actually looked pretty damn good."

"Is it just me or do you tend to contradict yourself, Dem?"

"Can it, bro."

Zexion shrugged. "Okay. Fine. What's it about?"

Demyx shrugged. "Uh. Like, the main character, Reno, is a member of some underground mercenary secret-service-type group. They're kind of an evil organization. Sort of. Like, you know, the mafia. When Reno figures that the organization's grand scheme is way too evil, even for him, he betrays them and defects to the other side. Like, as in the good guys. Or whatever."

The plot seemed lost on Sora, who then suddenly pointed in the direction of the life-sized movie poster for _Reno_ and quipped up, "Hey, check out the Reno dude's _hair_."

Everyone turned to look.

"He looks like a complete idiot," Roxas commented dryly.

"Total douche," Zexion nodded sagely. "But you know, apparently his character's played by a real good actor."

Demyx bounced with a smile. "Axel Collins. Heard?"

Roxas and Sora shook their heads.

However, a puzzled expression found its way onto Naminé's face. "But his name does sort of ring a bell, though…" It looked as though the girl was trying to recall something important.

Roxas snorted. "Who cares?" he muttered disinterestedly.

"Epic hair though," Sora remarked, eyes shining.

"Right, right. Okay. So, looks like we're watching _Reno_, since that's the only show left," Demyx decided, not giving anyone the chance to argue as he briskly sauntered over to the ticket booth.

-

In the theatre, Roxas squirmed in his seat. Demyx poked at him in the side and told him to sit still. Naminé, holding the popcorn, whispered something into Sora's ear and Zexion just rolled his eyes at Sora's subsequent uncontrollable giggle.

"Would you two lovebirds like to cut it out?" Zexion hissed sourly. "The movie's about to start. And people are _staring_ at us."

"Aw, when did you start to care?" Demyx teased his brother. "Aren't you Mister I'm-an-attention-whore-so-I-dress-like-an-emo?"

"I hate you."

"Yeah, bro. I get that vibe from you twenty-four seven."

"Real glad you do. Ecstatic, honestly."

Roxas sighed jadedly. As soon as the opening credits began to roll and a collective silence fell amongst the group, he promised himself to sit back and enjoy this moment of much-needed relaxation and enjoyment that came with watching a movie with friends.

But somehow, as the movie progressed, that relaxation and joy just didn't seem to want to come.

Roxas blamed it on his Sprite. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

Didn't really explain the feeling of emptiness, though.


	3. don't think twice, it's all right

** Author's note:** For the record, it's not as if Roxas and Naminé have dropped out of high school entirely just to hang with Sora and his posse all day. The kids at September Alley may be drop-outs, but Rox and Nam are just casual visitors. Just clarifying. Some people think they're permanent members of the Sept Alley scene. They're not. Anyway, enough twaddle. Here we go.

* * *

viii.

It's one Wednesday after a long day at school that Roxas found himself coming down with some kind of illness. The flu symptoms were all there. He could feel them bubbling up violently from the back of his throat, from between his eyes, from just under his skin. He felt feverish and cold all at once, his head was pounding and he'd had a hell of a time trying to concentrate on school work all day.

Great. He was coming down with some kind of influenza virus and his end-of-semester examinations were just around the corner. Wonderful.

This was the last thing he needed.

That afternoon, he told Naminé that he'd take himself to the doctor's and asked her to tell the others that he wouldn't be stopping by September Alley to hang. He needed to get diagnosed, get some medication, then get some rest at home.

Naminé, reasonably concerned, had wanted to accompany him to the clinic, but Roxas insisted that she stay away from him lest she catch the virus too.

"And then we'd both feel like crap for the exams," Roxas warned.

Naminé took heed of his advice and let him be. Instead, she scurried off to let Sora and the rest know of their friend's quandary.

Roxas' family doctor was located at the heart of the central business district of Twilight Metropolis. It was a twenty-minute bus ride away and by the time he reached the busy waiting room of the clinic, he was feeling weak, drained and just a little bit lightheaded.

He moved resolutely to register his name with the lady behind the counter. It didn't take as long as he thought it would. The lady took a gauging look at him and handed him a piece of paper with a number printed on it, then told him quite bluntly to take a seat and wait for his number to be called, which he proceeded to do without further question.

There were a number of blue plastic chairs that lined the walls of the tiny clinic and clearly, there didn't seem to be many empty seats left. But eventually, he spied one next to where a petite, inconspicuous-looking girl in an orange floral sundress was sitting, fingers tightly curled around the edge of her seat. He glanced in her direction and shot her a shaky smile before going over and sinking into the chair with a heavy sigh.

There was a moment of silence. Then,

"You don't look so good," the girl beside him observed quietly, startling Roxas a little.

He turned to face her fully.

The girl's eyes were a pretty, pretty green and her long, wavy hair was a dark, chocolate brown. She looked just a little bit older than him. Maybe seventeen, maybe eighteen. He couldn't quite tell.

He tipped his head forward in fleeting acknowledgement. "I don't feel so good either," he confessed.

"You're a little pale."

Roxas nodded. "Guessed as much." Then he looked a little closer at this stranger. "What about you? You don't look like you're all that sick."

The girl looked embarrassed for a split second and crossed her legs self-consciously, like she were holding back the urge to fret. "Oh. No, no. I've just got this little problem…" she trailed off and looked down at her bony knees.

Roxas blinked, sensing her discomfort. "Ah, sorry. It's personal, isn't it? I didn't mean to pry. You don't have to tell me what you've got."

She looked up again. "No. That's alright. I shouldn't – shouldn't be afraid to say it. Um…" she glanced away for awhile and took a deep breath. "Well, a couple of hours ago, I took a…" she pursed her lips hesitantly and squirmed in her seat. "I – I took a pregnancy test. And it came out p-positive. I think – I think I'm pregnant. But, I'm here to make sure I really am. Y'know, those over-the-counter kits aren't exactly foolproof." For some reason, the girl laughed a little, but there was a noticeable wretchedness in her voice. "Who am I kidding? I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant. And my parents aren't going to like it. And…" she started to tremble, "and the father of my child… he, he's…"

"Whoa, hey, shh," Roxas exclaimed when he saw the tears slip past her eyes and down her cheeks. "Don't cry." He darted over to the counter where a box of tissues sat, grabbed a few and returned hastily to pass them to the girl. She accepted them meekly.

"T-thanks."

"Don't cry. You'll be okay," Roxas assured her, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder in hope that the gesture would manage to convey his unspoken sympathy. "You'll be fine."

The girl nodded mechanically, but her eyes held a pool of doubt and despair.

Suddenly, Roxas felt like his imminent respiratory illness was the most insignificant thing in the world as he sat there next to this poor girl who could very well be carrying a child. She looked so frail, so terrified, so _young_.

"Okay, listen." He took her hand in his and looked into her bright green eyes gravely. "I really can't say I know much about this sorta stuff, but… if you really _do _have a kid in there, you just gotta take it all one step at a time, okay? There are plenty of people out there who'll be willing to help you through this. And I'm sure whatever they initially think, your parents will always still be there for you. So count on them. Count on the people who love you. As for the father, hey, if he doesn't want to be a part of any of it, it's his loss. He can be a bastard about it, but at least then you _know_ he's a bastard. That way you can cut him loose. Don't you worry about him. Focus on the now." Roxas gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. "One step at a time, okay?"

She looked back at him, eyes still brimming.

"… Okay." She sniffed and gripped his hand tight. "Yes. Okay."

"Good. Then you'll do just fine."

She nodded wordlessly, then broke eye contact with him when she realised how long they'd been staring at each other.

"I – I'm Lily," she mumbled, almost bashfully, "Lily Odette. But everyone calls me Olette. Like the place in southern France."

"Right. Nice to meet you, Olette. Call me Roxas."

Olette smiled a watery smile, very much feeling the warmth of his hand still clasping hers securely.

"Thank you very much, Roxas."

* * *

ix.

It should be made known that Roxas had two best friends in school. During lunch break, he would hang out with them both. The first was a girl he'd known since his first day as a junior. This was Naminé, of course. The second was a boy who joined the school a year ago. He was put in Roxas' tenth grade class in the middle of term just out of the blue, which obviously struck everyone as odd.

The arrival of the new kid had sparked a great deal of interest amongst his cohort. Mainly because the fifteen-year-old boy had a prominent scar on his forehead just above the bridge of his nose, slanting just between his eyes. No one knew how he got it and he made it quite clear that he wasn't going to tell.

His name was Seifer. And him and Roxas, they didn't exactly get along the first time they met. Roxas was, all things considered, quite a self-righteous individual. And Seifer was an arrogant teenage boy through and through. The two didn't like each other on sight.

In fact, the two only became friends through a bizarre incident that involved one of the school's most notorious bullies: Hayner. It also involved Naminé, to an extent.

What happened went down two weeks into Seifer's arrival. Roxas was at the tuck shop getting some juice while Naminé waited out at the netball courts, where they always had their lunch together. While alone, Hayner had deliberately gone over to her to have a talk. Eventually, the talking turned into taunting, and Naminé was clearly showing signs of distress. Of course, Hayner would never have gone anywhere near Naminé had Roxas been around to safeguard her. But Roxas wasn't around. So it was Seifer who came up to them and yelled at Hayner to back off.

Of course, there was a scuffle.

And there was much noise.

And when Roxas arrived a minute later, there was even more noise when he joined in.

Turned out Seifer was pretty tough for a tenth grade high schooler, and it was clear, as soon as Roxas entered the fray, that Hayner was fighting a losing battle.

It didn't take long before the whole school turned up to watch the spectacle.

Half an hour later saw the three scruffed up boys and Naminé in the headmaster's office where Naminé truthfully recounted the story of how she was being harassed and how Seifer and Roxas were only trying to stick up for her. Her narrative didn't manage to gain them any sort of immunity from the punishment that was ultimately served. But that was okay, because three weeks worth of detention later, Seifer and Roxas called a truce and eventually ended up being best friends.

A year and a half later, they were still as close as ever, and they had lunch with Naminé at the netball courts every chance they got.

* * *

x.

A Sunday in Summer, Roxas was in the city, shopping for a present for Demyx, whose birthday was the following Saturday. The gang had been secretly making plans to throw him a small surprise party.

Roxas wasn't very well off. He hoped the music CD he bought at the discounted price of ten bucks would be enough as a decent present.

His task completed, Roxas was now just aimlessly wandering the shops along Central Street. It was not as crowded as he initially thought it would be. That thought barely crossed his mind when someone almost walked right into him.

Fortunately, he was quick to avert any sort of impending disaster, gracelessly stumbling out of the way of the preoccupied man, who had been distractedly looking over his shoulder without paying any attention whatsoever to what was in front of him.

"_Whoa_. Jesus!" Roxas called out, rounding on the man somewhat irritably. "You seriously gotta watch where you're going, man. You very nearly made me trip over my—" he stopped in mid-rant when he eventually realised who was standing in front of him.

It was _that_ guy. The one he saw at the cinema. On the big screen.

"You!"

The stranger, clearly bewildered at the events that had unfolded, blinked owlishly and righted his pristine collared shirt, stepping back a little from the teenager in front of him, as though a little afraid of what Roxas might do to him.

"Er, yeah. Me." The stranger sounded almost nervous as his eyes darted back and forth, like he was hastily charting an escape route of some kind.

Roxas was too amazed to register the furtive glances. Instead, he spluttered a little, one thought swirling around in his head in the form of Demyx's disembodied voice.

"You're the independent mafia guy!"

At this, the stranger's eyebrows shot up and he fixed his full attention on Roxas for the first time. "Excuse me? Independent _what_?"

Roxas seemed to struggle for a bit before declaring, "Reno! You're Reno!"

'Reno' stared at Roxas' expression of disbelief for a moment. In those few seconds, Roxas could have sworn that he was being mentally assessed by the guy. Finally, 'Reno' nodded to himself in a self-satisfied manner and relaxed a little, giving the blond a crooked smile.

"Axel, actually. But hey, whatever floats your boat. You fans and your crazy little fantasies and whatnot." The man snorted. "There's been an outbreak of really badly written _Reno_ fan fiction out there. _Already_. Hell, movie hasn't been out more than a month. What? Are you one of them slash fiction writers? Because I'm Axel Collins—an _actor_—and despite what ye olde trusty internet says, I am _not_ a closet shipper, and I don't think Reno would _ever_ 'get it on' with Secret Agent Strife. Firstly because they both hate each other. Secondly and most importantly? They're not _real_."

Roxas' brow creased at that. Most of what Axel just said had flown right over his head. "I never said—" he floundered, "I'm—" _not one of your fans _seemed just a little mean "—not much of an internet user," he concluded lamely.

Axel looked amused at Roxas' sudden discomfort. "Relax, kid. Just checking. Gotta be real careful nowadays. I've been hounded by crazy people claiming to be my biggest fans or whatever. Creepy and persistent bunch. Don't get me wrong, they're friendly enough. It's the stalkers I find terrifying. They're hardcore."

Roxas couldn't help but grin. "Got yourself a large fanbase, huh?"

"Not so much large as psychotic."

Roxas laughed. For some reason, he found himself relaxing in the actor's presence. The man seemed friendly enough. He thought all actors and celebrities were an egotistical, narcissistic bunch. Apparently he was mistaken.

"So, Mr. Collins, what exactly are you doing in Twilight—"

"Mr. Collins?"

"—Metrop…er, _what_?"

"_Mr. Collins_?"

"Um, what else am I supposed to call you?"

"I dunno, by my _name_ maybe?"

"Okay. So, Axel Collins, what're you doing—"

"Just Axel."

"Okay, _Just_ _Axel. _What're you—"

"Doing in Twilight Metropolis?"

"Yeah."

"Chillin', duh."

Roxas nodded like that were the most obvious answer. "I see." It was his raised eyebrow that indicated that he did not, in fact, see.

"Also came here to see my sister. She lives in this city. Only family I got left. Haven't seen her in awhile. Thought it'd be nice to say hello."

"Oh. That's cool."

"Yeah, yeah. Very cool. Snazzy. Just awesome." Axel seemed a little distracted again. He glanced over his shoulder furtively once more and looked back at Roxas. "Okay, Blondie, okay. Hmm. Hey, let me ask you a question. If you don't mind. And uh, don't take this the wrong way or whatever, but, uh… Oh what the hell, I'll just ask it. Think you got some time to kill, kid?"

A beat.

Roxas tried to hide his incredulity at the unexpected question. Clearly, this was an amazingly unpredictable man standing before him.

"Uh."

"Say yes," Axel blabbed. "Quick."

Roxas blinked. He'd actually been thinking of going to Naminé's house to hang out right after this. But he did that yesterday. Maybe it was about time he changed some things around.

"Well, I guess I'm pretty free. Why? What'd you have in mind?"

Axel almost seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at his answer.

"Great! See, I've got no friends in this city, 'part from an ex-girlfriend I don't think I ever want to see again and my good ol' sis, who's busy till tonight. Was thinking of hitting a Starbucks. But doing that alone's kinda boring. Bad for my image, too. Company's always good. So. You thirsty?"

And here was Roxas' shining moment to spend some time in the company of a relatively well-known breakthrough actor (who might or might not be suffering from some sort of bipolar disorder). Also known as The Stranger He Just Met On The Sidewalk.

But the boy didn't think twice about the consequences, just jumped in head first by opening his mouth and responding with: "So long as my drink's on you, sure, why not?"

And Axel's pretty, pretty green eyes brightened considerably at his answer.

"Just what I wanted to hear. I think I'm beginning to like you already, kid."


End file.
